One day at a time

The last 48 hours have been very difficult, so many set backs, so  much said, so much hurt floating around my home. I am having a great deal of trouble navigating my emotions and doing normal things.

Since my last post my husband came home. I decided in my "wisdom" to bring home a bottle of wine with me (my private fuck-you to him because I haven't felt like I could have a drink in my own home for years because I feared it would set off an awful chain of events) and proceeded to drink 3 glasses. I don't have a high tolerance because, for obvious reasons, I rarely drink. It went right to my head and I became very honest with my thoughts and emotions. I was mean. Over the 2 hours that he and I talked, I cried, I shamed him, I raged a little. Then, I walked by the bathroom door where my son was in, and heard him injecting drugs. It was horrible...the tapping of the syringe, slapping his veins, then the rush...Oh, fuck, yeah...a sigh of pleasure. Absolutely traumatizing to hear.

After some hysterical tears on my part, I decided it was best if I just went to bed. This day had been bad enough and if I stayed awake, it would only get worse. Probably a good choice on my part because the pain ended for a least as long as I was unconcious.

I went to work yesterday, enjoyed being away from the feelings and pain of my house but then I had to come home. My skin crawls when I look at my husband and son right now. I'm so angry and hurt. In order for my husband to be able to stay in our home I have asked him to take a medication called revia. It apparently affects cravings for both opiate users and alcoholics. This wouldn't be the first time he has taken it but he said it worked well before, it only stopped working because he stopped taking it.

We tried to have a sane family conversation last night and it went reasonably well. No progress to speak of but we talked, we talked honestly I think. My son adamantly denies that I heard what I heard, it doesn't matter. I don't require the truth from him to know what I heard. My husband is (superficially at least) acknowledging his relapse and commitment to getting back on track with sobriety. Quite frankly, I don't believe or have confidence in a word he says.

I wonder how long I can live like this? Probably for a long, long time. I am so weak, pathetic and frightened of everything. I am doomed by my own design...much like the addicts.